Wilbur stared at the Captain helplessly.
“No can tell, hey?” inquired Charlie from the galley. “Pullum disa lope, sabe?”
Wilbur tugged at the rope the cook indicated.
“That's well, y'r peak halyard purchase,” chanted Captain Kitchell.
Wilbur made the rope fast. The mainsail was set, and hung slatting and flapping in the wind. Next the for'sail was set in much the same manner, and Wilbur was ordered to “lay out on the ji'boom and cast the gaskets off the jib.” He “lay out” as best he could and cast off the gaskets—he knew barely enough of yachting to understand an order here and there—and by the time he was back on the fo'c'sle head the Chinamen were at the jib halyard and hoisting away.
“That's well, y'r jib halyards.”
The “Bertha Millner” veered round and played off to the wind, tugging at her anchor.
“Man y'r windlass.”
Wilbur and the crew jumped once more to the brakes.
“Brake down, heave y'r anchor to the cathead.”